"Those in our culture who become followers of a Guru, or of any so called spiritual teacher, ought to have their head examined."

Alan Watts

 One of the most difficult things for me to accept in life is that, regardless of how much wisdom I have accumulated, of the kind that can only be obtained in exchange for one’s flesh and blood, the likelyhood that I’ll get to share any of it with someone else is very small.

And that bothers me.

Why does it bother me? (a hypothetical question, designed to facilitate composition)

I'm not sure. Maybe I too, wish I were a Guru, traveled around in a Rolls Royce, lived in a luxurious, and secluded, country estate and had managed to convince people that they should bow every time I enter a room.

Wouldn't you? Wouldn't everyone?

Or maybe I just crave attention. Could be, actually, since I always wanted to be a performer.

A Dancer. Singer. Pianist. Actress. Teacher. Storyteller. Clown. Snake Charmer. Rope-walker.

It wouldn't matter, as long as I was graceful, produced beauty, and people enjoyed my act.

Is it fame then? Is that what I long for?

Am I just another self-centered narcissist, blinded by delusions of grandeur?

Could be.

However, engaging in this endeavor, whereby I'm sharing what I hold most precious with an imaginary audience, requires paying attention to an inner voice that speaks so softly I can only hear it when I'm alone and in silence.

There go my crowds of noisy devotees, my book contracts and my speaking engagements. There go my interviews by popular journalists. There goes my country estate and Rolls Royce.

All of that, and a lot more, in exchange for a little voice that whispers:

"If you want to know the truth, share everything you are, have and know, be sincere and don't worry about the outcome."

If I want to know the truth....what truth? Is there such a thing as The Truth? A Truth that is always there, always accessible, no matter by whom or from which perspective? And even if such a thing existed, how would I ever know for sure that I had stumbled upon the real thing? Isn't everything relative?

I don't know about this little voice of mine. Is it tricking me? Why does it say I must give up all the goodies, (including being a Holy Mama) in exchange for something so elusive I don't even know if it really exists?

What about those who became famous because they deserved it, like Beethoven and Puccini or Plato and Hypatia. Did they have to make the same choice? And if they hadn't used their identity as a vehicle for self-expression, wouldn't humanity have been deprived of some of the greatest gifts culture has to offer?

Culture, schmulture! The little voice says (a bit feisty, this little one).

Human culture is just as fleeting and effemeral as anything else in the universe. Yes, some humans express greatness, but even what appears to be everlasting from the human perspective, is but an image in a dream. A moment in the mind of a dreamer, as insubstantial and imaginary as the rest of the dream.

Wanting to be a recognizable thread in the canvas of human history is as silly as writing one's name on the beach and expect it to last. Our wish to be remembered is understandable, given how much energy we invest in our identity, but this kind of overflowing of our personality into the future, riding a plush carpet woven by our ego, is nothing more than a modern form of colonialism.

Now that we've parceled out every inch of space on earth, let's shift gears a bit and claim our share of earth's time (i.e. our future, their past), by planting a little flag with our name on it inside their mind. A meme, if you will, complete with avatar and short bio, designed to carry our ego across time boundaries, making us immortal.

Immortal?

But what's the point of being immortal? So I can continue to live like I do now? Forever?

INCONCEIVABLE!

Forgive me if my remarks sound pessimistic, but what would be the point of doing that? I've seen what I wanted to see, done what I wanted to do, felt what I wanted to feel...I don't want to do this again and again, over and over .....forever.

What I want is total freedom. What I crave is truth. I'm done playing with toys.

I want to know what life is really about. Why are we here. In this form. At this time. In the middle of this universe. Apparently, alone. Why, why, why. I want to know what is at the core of all this. Everything else seems so irrelevant in comparison. Everything else are things I've already tried and they don't work. Even if they work for a while...eventually I come back here, to this place of emptiness, where it seems as though the only structure I can lean against is a huge question mark...

I want the truth, even if it'll cost me everything I am, have and know. I cannot be interested in anything else. Not anymore.

I am perfectly aware that maybe I'll lose everything and find nothing.

So be it.

"Alea iacta est" (a Latin speaking meme, still active)

I agree with the meme.

Once the choice has been made, there is no turning back.